Lexmar Prime had been brought back into the folds of the Imperium, but it would feel the scars left by the Knights for a thousand years.
The palace had been brought down upon the heads of the traitors to the Imperial rule and the rebel forces had been utterly crushed. Those remaining loyal to the Imperial forces crawled from their holes and scrambled from the dark of the world to stand upon the blood and corpse strewn streets. They breathed in the copper tasting air, thick with smoke and death. Several days had passed since the battle, no, the massacre. Clean up operations had been tasked to the reinforcing Guard from Lexmar Secundus and a strict curfew had been imposed by the returning governance office.
The capitol city of Lexmar Prime lit the skyline with her fires. Two Guardsmen scrambled along one of the deserted high streets, rubble and twisted metal making their journey difficult. The first crested a tumbled building spread across the road, the second stumbling back down the pile of rockcrete.
' Frak it! '
Lesker dropped himself down onto the slab of building he'd fallen onto, rubbing the life back into his numb knee. The first one turned, clutching his auto rifle between thick gloves, he chuckled to himself and took a step back down.
' I suppose we can take five minutes rest, you got a Lho? '
Lesker delved his fingers into the top pocket of his great coat and fiddled for a moment before pulling a battered pack of smoke sticks out. He tossed them up over his shoulder.
' Cheers. '
Demeter stooped to grab the pack and straightened himself, sliding one out of the pack and snapping the small plastic strip upon the front of it. The Lho-stick sparked and he sucked on the other end of it, puffing out blue clouds from around the cigarette. He dropped the pack into his pocket and patted it. He looked down at Lesker as the man whistled in appreciation of the destruction around them.
' Them Astartes didn't leave much left to even piss on did they, eh? '
Demeter nodded and sucked on the smoke stick again, picking his way back down the rubble to sit beside Lesker.
' Well, that's what happens if your regiment turns its back on the Emperor like this. You don't get a commissariat prat shooting you in the back, you get annihilated. '
Lesker folded his arms over his lasgun, working his fingers over the pitted wooden stock.
' I didn't even think them Space Marines was real. I thought they was just something the on High made up to keep the piss in us. Guess I was wrong about that. I mean, angels and daemons and all that were just cooked up by the church to keep the masses in line, well that's what my 'pa always used to say. '
Demeter looked down at his six year companion and raised an eyebrow.
' That before or after they carted his arse off for speaking heresy? You're lucky I hate you so much, or I'd have shot you for that. The Astartes are real and they do bring the wrath of the Emperor with them...all you have to do is look on the parade yard outside the palace. '
He shuddered at the thought of what he'd seen, he wouldn't be able to sleep for that night, he doubted he'd ever forget the carnage.
Leskers vox unit crackled into life, picking up a broad wave transmission. He thumbed the tuning tool upon the side of the speaker unit attached to his combat webbing and sought to clear the source.
++...this day...fires and war...Emperor willing...++
Demeter leant forward, ushering Lesker to hurry up clearing the signal. The second man frowned at the first and continued scrubbing the line until with a grunt he was receiving the message with only the barest cut of static.
++ He smiles upon this field of battle, brothers. We have performed his work. I lament at the destruction of sacred human souls, but to turn from his Light is to condemn one's self. Let it be known, that we, the Knights Vermillion have preserved those worthy of His love and strengthened their faith. ++
Lesker fixed his eyes with Demeter as a sound cut through the silence of the street around them. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Both men knew that to be the sound of armour shod feet. The Guardsmen scrambled up over the lip of the fallen building and their breath caught in their throats at what they saw.
The armoured might of the Adeptus Astartes marched along in unison, black and red armour glistening under the glow of the sun. The head of the procession was a wash of silver and black, hulking giants in dreadnought armour smashed rubble aside with their crackling power fists. The leader of this band of brothers was not difficult to pick out, a tall banner, bearing the impaled body of the rogue commander bopped up and down, a red gauntlet clutching a black sword upon the fluttering cloth. The brother holding it aloft marched behind the obvious master of the Chapter, two others of this honour guard clutching the poles to a palanquin that stretched above the two figures beneath it. Clad in a high gorget which obscured fully half of the black helmet, the bone embossed shoulder guards which glittered with ruby blood drops and taloned gauntlets, the Chapter master was a sight to behold. A great shawl of chainmail was wrapped around his form, the bulk of a jump pack strapped to his broad shoulders. A fearsome axe with a glowing white blade was clutched in one hand, in the other was a pistol of monstrous proportions. The ground seemed to blacken and smoulder beneath his tread, a constant wash of steam and smoke boiling up from within the creases of his armour plating. The harsh red glare of his helmet visors forced home the dread one would feel to face such a warrior upon the field of battle.
++ Lift up your hearts and remember, though our work is bloody, our nature savage, it brings justice for the innocent. We go to accept the offering of the peoples, we go to be humbled by their gesture. We do not ask for such a reward, but it may preserve our humanity and bring us clarity of purpose. ++
Demeter let the Lho stick fall from his lips, Lesker perched upon the edge of the rubble with held breath.
Thralls and robed figures trailed between the hulking brutes, oil soaked cloths and burning braziers were applied to the armours of the venerable warriors, removing the grit and stains of war. Each brother that received such attention bowed to the servants before resuming their stoic positions in the march, bolt guns clamped to their massively wide chests. Shields as large as a door were strapped to the backs of almost every Marine, long swords were positioned upon the right hip of each warrior, their baroque armour must have been millennia old, decked in seals of purity, litanies of faith and moment. Great swathes of chainmail decked the brotherhood, an array of trinkets and fetishes adorned each warrior, identifying them as individual in such a uniform formation.
The second figure beneath the palanquin was a visage of death. His armour midnight black and built in such a way as to offend courage itself. Curving plates were studded with iron spikes, the fingers upon the long gauntlets ended in razor sharp claws. Skulls were chained and bound to the warriors waist, blood smeared Aquila's carved into the very bone. A giant steel shod book was also chained to the black armour, jostling for position with an ornate pistol which gave off a sickly green glow from the ribbed power coils upon its barrel. Clutched in one hand was a weapon of pure power, two scything wings of gold and steel attached to a iron studded shaft, a halo of blue power arcing in fitful streaks across the head of the maul. By his gestures, it was this terrifying skull faced warrior who delivered the sermon over the vox network.
Demeter tried to count the Angels of Death as they marched past but it was hopeless, his count became jumbled after the first hundred. Such a sight shocked him to the depths of his soul. The size of them was magnificent and horrifying. He'd always assumed to legends to be full of grandeur and misinformation. If anything, the legends were lacking, these were not the Emperors defenders of humanity, no, these were living weapons, each capable of subduing an entire nation under his heel.
They watched for a time, awed and barely noticing the drone that filled the air. It was the sound of voices, deep and thunderous. Hundreds of them joined together in union and it almost rumbled the ground beneath their feet. Each of the Space Marines were bellowing at the top of their super enhanced lungs, their projected voices loud with their praise to the Emperor and a mighty being called Sanguinius. Lesker tried to say something but his words were swallowed by the behemoth that followed at the rear of the procession.
The ground shuddered under the mighty footfalls of the war machine. Its armoured form resplendent with banners and chains, icons and skulls. The front of the Dreadnought was wrought into the form of a screaming eagle, wings spread out to form the shoulder armour. A shield was clamped to the left side of the sarcophagus, a sword chained the to right. The left arm ended in a huge fist, the mechanical fingers clanking together in reflex movements. The right arm belched steam from the twin barrels of the scorched radiation weapon, its yawning maw too forged to resembled the double eagle of the Emperor. It came with its own precession, twin mounted shoulder speakers blaring its own liturgy. Two thralls in red robes bore twin banners behind the behemoth, depicting a magnificent warrior with wings, baring his golden sword aloft. Behind these banner bearers were a train of savants and worshippers, baring the holy weapon shells and gas canisters the warrior-machine would require for combat. Amidst the sea of serfs was a techno-mage, his power armour completely encompassing his form in locked bands of red ceramite. Instead of the eagle upon his chest he bore a skull bossed cog symbol. Metal spiders legs swayed and juddered from the huge power pack between his shoulders and every second step was accented with a clang as his chain axe staff slammed down into the rockcrete of the road.
The procession faltered slightly as the vanguard of Terminators took a moment to savage their way through a fallen column. The mighty dreadnought threw up its fist, crunching the fingers together in impatience. A burst of static broke over the chanting and a heavily synthesised voice boomed down the street.
++ Warning before stopping young Uron! I will surely kill those brothers before me, for I shall step upon them before I have noticed them! Onwards, I cry, onwards! ++
There was a break of laughter down the line of the Astartes and Demeter was shocked to the bone that such death knights could find humour within themselves.
There was an almighty crack of thunder and a puff of dust from the unseen head of the procession and the march resumed.
' Magnificent isn't it? '
The new voice was deep, earthy and right next to Demeter's ear. He yelped in shock and almost dropped his auto rifle, Lesker scrambled upwards to bring his lasgun to bare on the intruder to their moment. His fingers faltered and his eyes rose up to meet the dark red ones of the new comer. The warrior was about a foot taller than either man, thick combat fatigues obscured his muscular legs, iron shod boots propping his form upon the raised rubble. An un-hooded chainmail coif obscured his neck, pooled in folds about his shoulders. Bulky carapace armour of black, trimmed in red protected his shoulders and upper chest from blade and ballistic. A pair of multi-purpose vision goggles were pushed up upon the top of his head, forcing his rich blonde hair back over his head. A ragged cloak of tattered urban camo was slung over his shoulders and between his gloved hands was clutched an immense shotgun.
Lesker stammered with words, but Demeter nodded, unable to speak.
The Astartes scout auxiliary smiled, revealing sharp fangs and razor sharp teeth. He had crept up upon the two guardsmen unseen and unheard. Lesker caught a flicker of movement and when he focused his attention, four other scouts were picking their way up the rubble with the ease of an acrobat. Demeter could feel his leg begin to tremor, the hairs upon the back of his neck raising. Lesker voiced his thoughts, his voice barely audible and broken.
' You're not human...'
The Astartes laughed, the sound short and bark like. He turned to survey the end of the march and then turned back to the two mortals.
' Nay, brave Guardsmen, we are not. '